Challenging Matt

by Julianna Morris

  Matt almost laughed. It was so simple. Nobody had to release an employee roster; the employees had done it themselves. He remembered getting emails, asking for contributions to the cookbook. Their goal had been one hundred percent staff participation. He’d gone to his grandmother for a recipe to submit.

  “Thanks.”

  “While I don’t enjoy having the mess being aired again, the things Layne said...” Peter shrugged. “I suppose she made me somewhat ashamed of myself. The outcome wouldn’t have changed, but perhaps I should have supported William more than I did.”

  Glad to hear you’re keeping an open mind, Matt thought wryly as he glanced through the cookbook. “I’ll get this to her.”

  He’d also get a second copy for Connor to pull out names and do background checks, but Peter didn’t need to know that.

  “Good, good.” Peter cleared his throat and got up. “I hope we’ll see you soon at the house, son.”

  “I’ll try.” Matt walked his stepfather to the elevator and said good-night, then returned to the report he’d been studying. But it was difficult to concentrate and he finally dropped the folder and stared out the window.

  His stepfather probably hadn’t done more than rush to judgment about his friend, but what if there was more to the story? The things Layne had told him about Peter’s note to Dorothy were disturbing. Hopefully she’d misunderstood, because if his mother hadn’t been able to deal with the media storm following her divorce, it would be even worse having a husband on trial for blackmailing his friend’s widow.

  * * *

  DOROTHY PACED THE floor of her studio, wishing she could focus on her art instead of the nagging voice inside her head. Layne hadn’t called all day. It was highly unusual and made Dorothy feel even guiltier because it was unusual. Ever since Will’s death, Layne had been even more attentive.

  It had to stop.

  Has she complained?

  The memory of Patrick’s casual question was annoying. He was concerned about his sister back in Ireland, which was understandable, but Alleyne’s situation wasn’t the same. Alleyne had been a young bride when she was widowed, she hadn’t spent twenty-nine years letting her husband shoulder all the responsibilities.

  Patrick might see her a certain way because of his sister, but it was making Dorothy think. Will, the eternal optimist, would have told her to stop fussing about things she couldn’t change. And maybe she should. Will was gone. She could find a thousand reasons to feel guilty, perhaps mostly because she was alive and he wasn’t, but it was too late to fix anything.

  And what Patrick had said about Will being a second father to Lani also deserved thought. Layne was behaving like a grieving daughter. Pushing her away wouldn’t be right, either. She’d come to the house almost as often when Will was alive, and had helped out, especially when either of them was ill.

  Sighing, Dorothy took out her phone and called her niece. “Hello?” Layne answered after three rings, sounding groggy.

  “Oh, dear, were you asleep?”

  “Not really. I should have called earlier.”

  “No, of course not, but is everything all right?”

  “Oh. Uh, well, Matt and I went to the Carrollton police station this morning to meet with that detective. I got more information on the case, only on the way back there was an incident on the road. Someone hit us. It was, um, probably deliberate. But that means I’m making progress,” Layne said hastily. “Someone is getting nervous.”

  Dorothy grabbed the back of a chair, clutching it so hard her knuckles turned white. “Nervous? You mean dangerous.”

  “Hey, I’m okay. Just a sore shoulder. Matt was driving and he’s an expert because he used to race cars. I don’t think we were in any real danger. The thing is, we were in the Mustang and one of the fenders is pretty crunched.” The anguish in her niece’s voice made Dorothy sigh.

  “It’s just a car, Lani. I’m sorry because you love it, but I’m far more concerned about your life.”

  “I’m being careful. And besides, Matt has his security people watching my house now. Your place, too, so if you see a big recreational vehicle outside, it’s them.”

  “Mine?”

  “Just as a precaution,” Layne said hastily. “He wouldn’t back down about it, so there wasn’t any point in arguing.”

  Dorothy peered out the window, but she didn’t see anything that looked odd. “Why argue after getting hit by a car?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because he was being so high-handed. I realize Matt feels responsible because he was working at Hudson & Davidson when everything happened with Uncle Will, but that doesn’t mean I should accept expensive favors.”

  Obviously stiff-necked pride ran in the family, Dorothy thought wryly. The hard part was knowing the difference between being hardheaded and being independent. She would have to give it serious consideration.

  “Well, accept all the protection he offers. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. And that isn’t just because I asked you to start this, Lani.”

  “I know, and nothing is going to happen. By the way, do you have the documents that Peter Davidson wants you to sign?” Layne asked. “If you don’t mind, Matt would like to see them. And I’m also wondering about what’s in the partnership agreement. Looking at everything together would be helpful.”

  “Peter sent the documents a couple of weeks ago, and Will always kept the partnership papers in our safe deposit box. I don’t mind Matt seeing any of it, but what good will it do?”

  “Maybe none, but he didn’t like hearing about that letter from Peter. You should take the originals of everything to your safe deposit box, including the letters Mr. Davidson has sent. I can go with you to the bank and use a hand-scanner to get copies of what’s there.”

  Dorothy blinked. “A hand-scanner? Isn’t that James Bond-ish?”

  “Yup.” Layne laughed. “Now available at your average office supply store—I use one when I’m researching material from books in the public domain at the library. How about going to your bank on Monday morning? I can take the day off.”

  “All right.”

  “Great. I’ll come over and make copies of everything at the house, and then we’ll go together.”

  “Fine.”

  They chatted another few minutes before saying good-night. When they got off, Dorothy peered out the window again. She didn’t doubt the presence she kept sensing in the house was William’s spirit, but that didn’t mean someone hadn’t gotten nervous about Layne’s investigation and wouldn’t try to get in now.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE NEXT DAY Layne compared the date on the phone message from Uncle Rob with the dates of the embezzlement. She was briefly excited when they matched, but she was a long way from proving anything. Since Rob couldn’t be certain of exactly when his brother-in-law had visited him, she still needed something else to corroborate an alibi.

  She continued entering dates of the thefts into the calendar grid, looking for a pattern. The autopsy report remained in the envelope; she hadn’t been able to bring herself to read it again. All those words, horrid medical terms and graphic descriptions, as if Uncle Will hadn’t been a real person. The medical examiner was just doing his or her job, but that didn’t make it any more pleasant. Anyhow, there hadn’t been anything she’d seen that raised any flags.

  Layne swallowed the last of her iced coffee. The weather had turned beastly hot again and caffeine was a bad idea, but she was drinking it anyhow.

  Toto lay on the hardwood floor in front of the oscillating fan. He became alert at every sound, tilting his head at a particular angle as he decided whether or not he needed to investigate. Obviously he was more than Riley Flannigan’s pet; he was a trained guard dog. Still, she found it hard to be annoyed with Riley for charming her into keeping Toto in the house—Tot
o was excellent company and a perfect gentleman.

  “Hey, boy,” she said, stretching out a leg to stroke his back with her toe. He gave her a pleased canine smile, his tail swaying back and forth.

  After Uncle Will’s death she’d gotten into the habit of taking Aunt Dee to church every week, but she’d begged off the night before, hating to have Dee see the damage to the Mustang. Not that she couldn’t have used the Volvo—Matt had left the keys on the coffee table, completely ignoring her objections.

  Layne frowned.

  Matt honestly didn’t seem to understand that some people cared about dignity and self-reliance. Besides, while it might be nice to let him take care of everything, he wouldn’t be there the next time something went wrong. Hell, Layne was astonished he’d stayed with the investigation as long as he had. Matt Hollister was infamous for having a short attention span about everything—sports, places...women.

  Especially women.

  They’d spoken earlier. His stepfather had said that releasing a list of employees was a legal issue, but had found a way around it...by providing an employee cookbook. Matt had offered to bring it over, but she’d claimed to have more than enough to keep her busy. The truth was, she needed some space. After a series of phone calls to Hudson & Davidson employees, she was burned out for the day. Lord, they disliked talking about the thefts.

  Layne touched her bruised collarbone.

  And maybe she’d alarmed someone enough they wanted to kill her. She was scared, but also elated because it was a sign that she was on the right track.

  * * *

  LAYNE PULLED INTO the Eisley Foundation visitor parking lot on Monday morning and waved at Riley, who was trailing her in his truck. Apparently “watching” the house included keeping an eye on her, as well. Though she didn’t like admitting it, his presence was reassuring.

  “Don’t you ever sleep?” she asked, walking over to the truck.

  “I can sleep anywhere.”

  Hmm. Layne wasn’t sure what to make of Riley. He was attentive, charming, seemed to like her...and was on Matt Hollister’s payroll.

  She reached in to pat Toto. Rather than leaving him alone in the house for the day, she’d knocked on the door of the van early that morning—much to the displeasure of the team inside—and left him with Riley.

  “Well, see you both later.”

  He smiled. “Count on it.”

  Inside the lobby, Layne stopped at the reception area. “Hello, I’d like to see Matthew Hollister.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, but I’m acquainted with Mr. Hollister.”

  “Really?” It was a different receptionist from Layne’s other two visits to the building and her expression was skeptical. She probably saw Layne as someone well out of Matt’s league and unlikely to know him. It was true...which made it doubly annoying.

  “Just let Matt know that Layne McGraw is here,” she said tartly.

  “Mr. Hollister’s assistant has left for lunch and I have no intention of disturbing him.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I’m following our standard protocols. Mr. Hollister does not have time to see every starry-eyed young woman who wants to meet him.”

  “I’ve met him.” Layne gritted her teeth. “And believe me, I’m not starry-eyed when it comes to Matt Hollister. But if you don’t want to call, I’ll do it myself.”

  The receptionist gave her a superior smile. “If you actually had his number, you’d know it rings on his assistant’s desk. Now, I must ask you to leave.”

  “I’m talking about his private line.”

  Layne turned around and began digging through her purse for her cell phone. She should have called ahead, but instead she’d stopped at the Babbitt to print out what she’d scanned, then rushed into North Seattle, upset about the bombshell Aunt Dee had dropped at the bank. Dee was going to start calling real estate agents about selling the house, which meant her financial situation must be growing worse. So if Matt could find something in the sales agreement to show Peter was cheating Aunt Dee, it would be a huge help.

  There.

  Her purse was so big, the phone had a habit of hiding in the oddest places. Layne turned it on and waited for it to cycle.

  The elevator opened and she was vaguely aware of someone stepping out. “Thank you for coming, Mr. O’Brian,” the receptionist said. “This young woman refuses to leave.”

  Layne looked up and saw a large rottweiler bounding over with a happy bark. He gazed up, tongue lolling from the side of his mouth.

  “Finnster, back,” a man said sharply.

  “Finnster” ignored the command, sinking down and rolling over on his back. Layne obliged by rubbing his tummy, but her mind was racing. It was the friendly dog she’d played with outside her aunt’s house a few weeks before—encountering two clownish rottweilers would be unusual, but two with that same notch in the right ear?

  She straightened and looked at the man who’d called to the rottweiler. He was medium height, with a solid, muscular build, and a hard, unsmiling face. She also recognized him; he was the security guard who had followed her to the parking lot the first day she’d come to see Matt, here at the Eisley Foundation.

  “You were outside my aunt’s house, weren’t you?” she accused. “A few weeks ago. You and your dog. Matt sent you to spy on us.”

  “It was my idea, Ms. McGraw,” the guard assured hastily. “Matthew didn’t have anything to do with it. I was simply doing a security check and brought Finn with me.”

  Layne’s eyes widened. The guard had a distinctive Irish brogue, and Aunt Dee had mentioned her new friend was from Ireland. It was too big of a coincidence to ignore.

  “Oh my God, you’re the guy making up to Aunt Dee at the art gallery,” she said, appalled. “Do you know what she’s been through? How could you do that to her?”

  “Let me explain. My name is Connor O’Brian—”

  “Don’t bother.” Layne didn’t want explanations, she wanted to get as far from Matt and his security people as she could possibly get.

  She slapped the door opened and marched to the parking lot.

  “Are you okay?” called Riley from his truck.

  She ignored him and got into the Volvo, hating that she’d talked herself into using it that morning. The only reason she had was its air-conditioning—temperatures had been predicted to climb to a hundred.

  The noontime traffic was heavy and it took longer than usual before she got back to her house. Every now and then she caught sight of Riley’s truck in her rearview mirror, but it was no longer reassuring. A bright red sports car zipped ahead of her at one point and she scowled, only to decide it was wildly improbable that Matt would chase her anywhere.

  She was wrong.

  He was waiting at the house, along with Connor Ratfink O’Brian. Layne parked and threw the Volvo keys at them. She marched up her walkway, but when they followed her onto the porch, she wheeled around.

  “Leave, both of you, and take all of...of that with you.” She made a gesture that took in the Volvo, the security van and the rottweiler, who was looking at her with distress in his eyes. Honestly, how could these security experts have such nice dogs? She hadn’t made up her mind about Riley and Toto, but Finnster was obviously an innocent dupe.

  Matt crossed his arms over his chest. “Layne, be reasonable. I asked Connor to do a security check the night of the gala. That was before I got to know you.”

  “And I didn’t intend to hurt Dot,” the other man added, lines sharply drawn on his features. “Going to the gallery was my idea alone. Your aunt intrigued me and I wanted to meet her.”

  “Like I’d believe either one of you. Go away,” she said and slammed the door in their faces.

  How could she have let Matt get to her? F
or Aunt Dee there hadn’t been a reason to suspect Patrick of being anything other than he appeared, yet even her aunt had been mildly suspicious of him at first.

  Aunt Dee.

  Electrified, Layne grabbed the handset sitting on the couch and called her aunt. She needed to know about Connor or Patrick or whatever his real name might be.

  * * *

  CONNOR PROMPTLY COMMANDEERED Riley’s truck and drove to Dot’s home. He strode up the walkway and rang the bell. The door swung open and Dorothy’s eyes darkened with fury.

  “You.”

  Obviously, Layne had wasted no time alerting her to the deception played on them both.

  “Dot, let me—”

  The door slammed in his face...eerily reminiscent of how her niece had ended the conversation not a half hour earlier. The temper in her eyes had mirrored Layne’s ire as well. Plainly, Dorothy wasn’t going to be as understanding as he would have wished.

  Connor rang the bell again and called through the closed door, “Dot, I didn’t do it to hurt you. You’re a beautiful woman and I wanted to get to know you. It’s as simple as that.”

  That, and being reminded of the sister he’d been too busy to comfort when she needed it most. It was a sad thing to meet a woman you desired, and know the timing was wrong for anything except friendship.

  “Go to hell.”

  “I’ve already been there.” He leaned on the doorjamb, instinctively turning his head to do a visual perimeter sweep of the property.

  “Then go back and leave me alone, Patrick. Or whoever you really are.”

  “My full name is Connor Patrick Donovan O’Brian. Patrick is fine—it’s what my family calls me. Let me in so we can talk.”

  Silence greeted him. Though aware that the security team on the street had to be listening, he rang a third time, followed by several raps on the door.

  Still nothing.

  “Damned stubborn women. Both of them,” Connor muttered, walking toward the security van. He didn’t intend to give up, but he’d give her time to cool down. Meanwhile, at least he didn’t have to be concerned any longer that she’d spot him when he checked on the security team.